In Which I Growl
So, Liz’s adventures in real estate turned out to be a bust. I am, in fact, closer to being almost a homo than I am a homeowner. And I’m really not much of a homo. I’m about as gay as I am Jewish, come to think of it . . . and everyone knows I’m the World’s Worst Jew.
The much vaunted roof deck of the building did not actually exist. I mean, yes, the building has a roof, but as for being defined as a ‘roof deck’ and ‘common space’ in the offering plan the ass-magnet sponsor and realtors submitted to the city, we have a no go, a blatant lie, and a big pile of false advertising, as it was sitting right there in the Times: "Its common roof deck offers you refuge from the hustle and bustle of city life . . . "
I went to my attorney yesterday to sign the papers that would have put me in contract. She was reviewing the specs of the building, and mentioned something about ‘no roof access.’
Me: Wait, What?
She: Yeah, no roof access. It looks like the only people who have any kind of outdoor space are the people on the 4th floor with the duplexes.
Me: Oh my god. No roof access is a total deal breaker.
She: Well, let’s call the sponsor’s lawyer and see what she says.
Me: Oh, fuck.
A call was placed to the sponsor’s lawyer, who knew nothing about the alleged deck. A call was placed to the realtor, who said, “Of course there’s a deck; I’ve walked around on it.”
Physical presence of deck or no, the thing wasn’t in the offering plan, and to make it legal, the offering plan would have to be resubmitted with the city,and re-approved, which takes several months, according to my lawyer. And, the people who would end up paying to have this deck built are, yes, you guessed it, the condo owners in the building, not the sponsor. So basically, if I wanted a roof deck, all the other people in the building would also have to want it, and then be willing to invest the money to build and approve the damn thing.
The thing that makes me seethe is the fact that I had to pay my lawyer $500 to discover the sponsor and the realtors had lied about a major feature of the building, and the one that made it so appealing to me. My lawyer totally deserved what I paid her; the stack of documents she had to go through is worse that War and Peace.
But the fact the she is the one who had to inform the realtors they’d been lying the whole time, and that it cost me $500, gave me a mild Tourettic attack as I stormed down the hallway at work dropping f bombs like they were hot.
I hate confrontation, but I was so furious I called the realtor and told her, look, either lower my bid by $50,000 and make sure it’s accepted, or you reimburse me for my legal fees. She stammered, “Oh, I’m going to have to get back to you tomorrow on that!”
She calls me this morning and says, “Well, you’ll need to make a more reasonable bid and we can talk, but we’re not paying for your legal fees.”
I said, “Well, that means I can sue you for false advertising.”
Long pause. Then, “Oh, let me call you back.”
Five minutes later, I get a call from her boss saying, “The sponsor has agreed to reimburse you.”
Fuckin’-A right he did!
They have, overnight, changed the Times ad to read, "there is potential (italics added) for a fabulous common roof deck with stunning harbor, Statue of Liberty and skyline views."
Fuck you, buddy.
The moral of the story is: buying real estate is treacherous and Brown Harris Stevens can kiss my sweet white ass. At least no one died, and nothing terrible happened in the long view, but this whole process has done nothing to improve my stank attitude.
Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
The much vaunted roof deck of the building did not actually exist. I mean, yes, the building has a roof, but as for being defined as a ‘roof deck’ and ‘common space’ in the offering plan the ass-magnet sponsor and realtors submitted to the city, we have a no go, a blatant lie, and a big pile of false advertising, as it was sitting right there in the Times: "Its common roof deck offers you refuge from the hustle and bustle of city life . . . "
I went to my attorney yesterday to sign the papers that would have put me in contract. She was reviewing the specs of the building, and mentioned something about ‘no roof access.’
Me: Wait, What?
She: Yeah, no roof access. It looks like the only people who have any kind of outdoor space are the people on the 4th floor with the duplexes.
Me: Oh my god. No roof access is a total deal breaker.
She: Well, let’s call the sponsor’s lawyer and see what she says.
Me: Oh, fuck.
A call was placed to the sponsor’s lawyer, who knew nothing about the alleged deck. A call was placed to the realtor, who said, “Of course there’s a deck; I’ve walked around on it.”
Physical presence of deck or no, the thing wasn’t in the offering plan, and to make it legal, the offering plan would have to be resubmitted with the city,and re-approved, which takes several months, according to my lawyer. And, the people who would end up paying to have this deck built are, yes, you guessed it, the condo owners in the building, not the sponsor. So basically, if I wanted a roof deck, all the other people in the building would also have to want it, and then be willing to invest the money to build and approve the damn thing.
The thing that makes me seethe is the fact that I had to pay my lawyer $500 to discover the sponsor and the realtors had lied about a major feature of the building, and the one that made it so appealing to me. My lawyer totally deserved what I paid her; the stack of documents she had to go through is worse that War and Peace.
But the fact the she is the one who had to inform the realtors they’d been lying the whole time, and that it cost me $500, gave me a mild Tourettic attack as I stormed down the hallway at work dropping f bombs like they were hot.
I hate confrontation, but I was so furious I called the realtor and told her, look, either lower my bid by $50,000 and make sure it’s accepted, or you reimburse me for my legal fees. She stammered, “Oh, I’m going to have to get back to you tomorrow on that!”
She calls me this morning and says, “Well, you’ll need to make a more reasonable bid and we can talk, but we’re not paying for your legal fees.”
I said, “Well, that means I can sue you for false advertising.”
Long pause. Then, “Oh, let me call you back.”
Five minutes later, I get a call from her boss saying, “The sponsor has agreed to reimburse you.”
Fuckin’-A right he did!
They have, overnight, changed the Times ad to read, "there is potential (italics added) for a fabulous common roof deck with stunning harbor, Statue of Liberty and skyline views."
Fuck you, buddy.
The moral of the story is: buying real estate is treacherous and Brown Harris Stevens can kiss my sweet white ass. At least no one died, and nothing terrible happened in the long view, but this whole process has done nothing to improve my stank attitude.
Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
posted by Liz at 5:01 PM
5 Comments:
There is a price to pay to live in NYC's best borough! Sorry to hear about the shenanigans the realtors pulled on you. But no roof deck, well, at least there's a roof.
Our landlord want's to sell us the place providing this grumpy 70 year old women gets to live here until she dies rent free & the roof is caving in!
wants not want's (know how you hate the misuse of apostrophes).
Jebus, Lizzard. You don't even need me to be your legal advisor anymore! You rocked those bitches harder than Liz Phair on a high school boy. Well done, madam.
A cautionary tale, to be sure. But the very real threat of a well-deserved lawsuit can turn sinners into saints.
And I'm dreadfully sorry that your dream home evaporated in a fog of lies and deceit. You'll find a place, my pretty, even better than that one.
Mreowzzletoff,
Big props for kicking your fortress of smallitude to the curb! u go girl! As Bea Arthur´s makeup artist used to say: "Never give up"...I will be your 2nd or 3rd tenant if ever I make it back to Estados Unidos alive, hasta entonces, xo
Parkus
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